


Enharmonic Intervals

by Ponderosa



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Multi, OT3, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Yuletide 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once she might have been the glue that held them together, but somewhere along the way they became a unit, complete and whole, and it's reflected in the way they move, the way they make love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enharmonic Intervals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamjar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamjar/gifts).



Once she might have been the glue that held them together, but somewhere along the way they became a unit, complete and whole, and it’s reflected in the way they move, the way they make love.

Fuu isn’t sure when she’d first thought about having them both, had begun to harbor secret little desires in the dark of night when she wasn’t so exhausted that she was asleep before her head hit the ground. But, even from the beginning she couldn’t think of one over the other, couldn’t pick, couldn’t choose. She’d always pictured herself in the middle; there couldn’t be any other way. How they were, they would have to be held apart, her body a buffer, and she’d have to be quick with soothing words and distracting kisses if their hands happened to brush.

Only, when those private wishes had surprised her and become reality, it hadn’t been like that at all.

It still isn’t.

Mugen always complains that she’s too skinny, that she has no curves and is flat like a boy, yet when they do this his hands are greedy and his mouth is hungry on her skin. He is nothing but low sounds and scratching kisses, the sly curve of his mouth dripping with dirty words that make her blush and press against him.

Tonight it’s him in the middle, his tongue between her legs and Jin behind him, snow-pale skin on earthen dark. Jin’s long hair has slid forward over Mugen’s shoulder, keeps getting in the way, keeps making Mugen snarl and twist to spit it out. Mugen never quite manages to complain, though; Jin always does something right as he gets the air for it, and Fuu stifles laughter between little trembling shudders when Mugen groans and brings his mouth back to her.

Even when things are sweet and slow, sex is never pretty the way it is in her head, but it doesn’t matter because they’re beautiful together: Mugen with his rangy muscles flexing under the scarred mapwork of his skin, and Jin who manages to still be graceful even when the rhythm is off, stilted and faltering. Sometimes, because of this Fuu feels like she doesn’t belong. She’s awkward in ways that they aren’t, but it never lasts, silly worries melted away by steam-hot kisses.

_Spinback._

_Twist of tongue, arch of spine, teeth against the heel of her hand, muffled laugh giving way to a soft cry, yes, right there, like that. Do it_

“Harder,” Mugen says, and the word is a rush of damp heat against the inside of Fuu’s thigh.

Fuu flexes her hands, shivers when Jin’s eyes lift to meet hers, and there’s a moment, crystalline and trembling on the edge of a leaf, that she feels like he’s buried inside of her instead of Mugen. That he’s asking without words if she’s ready, if she wants it, and Fuu flushes, opens her mouth and finds nothing but a moan.

Jin’s eyes drop, the fan of his lashes a perfect stroke of ink that sets off a chain reaction: the motion that shivers through the fringe of his hair builds like a wave, crests and crashes with a fierce thrust that sends Mugen’s lips crushing against her.

And oh, _oh_ the sound Mugen makes as Jin rocks into him slips under Fuu’s skin, hums in her veins and in her bones. She is light, floating, anchored here only by the rhythm of his fingers. Mugen’s open mouth presses against the bend of her thigh, and it’s Jin setting the pace now. Each time Mugen’s fingers push deep, it is an echo, Jin’s raw thrusts filtered through Mugen’s body, softened before they get to Fuu.

“More, give me more, fuck, let me really feel it,” Mugen says, and it’s like he’s saying everything Fuu is holding trapped in her throat.

_Scratch._

_Feels so good so good. Can’t think. Can’t Can’t breath. Can’t figure out how to say how muchmuchmuch she loves them._

At times like this, saying aloud how much she loves them seems trite, and during the day, the road is too long and food seems more important than love. If she said it then, they’d grunt, keep walking, and she’d hurry to catch up.

She doesn’t think they don’t love her, she just wants to hear them say it, to her, and to each other. But, maybe, this is how they do that; soft growling sounds and little hisses like the slide of steel traded in place of I love yous.

And even if Mugen says she has no tits, and Jin never says anything at all, they still make her feel beautiful, wanted.

Fuu’s not sure what she makes them feel, and maybe someday when the fire has burned low she’ll ask, but until then she hopes it’s that they belong.

With that warming her belly, Fuu twists, dares to push back against the thrust of Mugen’s hand. She’s so close, almost there, a cliff’s edge beneath her toes and the void looming dark and wide beyond. With blurred eyes she finds Mugen watching her along the line of her body. He grins wolfishly.

_Breakdown._

Time slows. Stops. Holds. She hangs there, arms out. They’ll catch her if she falls, but not before, not before

Everything hits at once.

Jin’s breath explodes and his teeth are on Mugen’s shoulder. He has an arm wrapped tight around Mugen’s body. Fuu watches Mugen’s grin crumble, twist, turn into a snarl, and then he’s surging up holding Jin’s weight on his back as his hands curl around Fuu’s hips and drag her towards him.

She gasps, shudders, feels warm and wonderful with their weight on her. She can feel Jin’s hand, the rhythm of it as it’s wrapped around solid heat, and that’s enough. That’s enough.

When it’s over, they can’t get apart fast enough. They topple like felled trees: Jin a stretch of long limbs to her right, Mugen a tangled sprawl to her left. They’re spent and yawning, inches from sleep just like that. Fuu smiles. She always feels more alive, more awake, but she doesn’t try to talk, she just listens to the pace of their breathing, waits for it to even out, sync together. And she alters her breathing to match.

**Author's Note:**

> An interval is the distance from one note to the other. Enharmonics are notes which are expressed differently yet have the same pitch. Enharmonic intervals specifically are two notes that are written differently, but occupy the same position on the staff, like C sharp and D flat.


End file.
